


Almost An Angel

by phantomthief_fee



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Body Horror, I drew a thing and I wanted to write it, Mental Health Issues, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-01-12 02:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: She wasn't an angel





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PipesFlowForeverandEver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipesFlowForeverandEver/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hymns of Struggle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776151) by [PipesFlowForeverandEver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipesFlowForeverandEver/pseuds/PipesFlowForeverandEver). 



> I did a thing and made a sona

I recently drew a[ sona](http://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/184066849460/so-i-decided-to-give-hymns-minion-me-her-own) for Hymns of Struggle, and now I want to write it.

[Hymns of Struggle](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fseries%2F910524&t=ZGU1YTNkMDE5OGU5M2M3ZTNjMTk0NWY4ZGZmNTJlNzEwNjNkNmFmYyxmNjVlYWI3ZjgwYjlmNzczNjBhMDYxMjc2YWZlYTVkNjAwYTkyZmYx) belongs to [@pipesflowforeverandever](https://tmblr.co/m2zmumMEKoKDrJDlESd5txQ)

* * *

She wasn’t an angel. 

Specifically, she wasn’t Alice Angel. Sure, she had some of the features of the toon, like the halo and the dress, but she was altogether incomplete. She only had one horn, one glove, and one proper leg, and her halo was embedded in her head. Her other leg was basically a pillar of ink while her other arm almost resembled a wing, despite basically being another dripping ink mass. The majority of her body was covered in ink, although various patches of yellow skin were visible. Sometimes her mouth was freed from the ink, revealing that her lips were permanently black, as though she were wearing black lipstick. Only one eye was ever visible, although it was only really a glowing orb. All of her was drippy, from her dress to her hair (if one could even call the ink on her head that) to the ink covering her body.

She wasn’t a particularly remarkable ink creature. She had enough sapience to hold her form and sort of had an identity, but her form was far from perfect and she didn’t remember too much about who she’d been before falling into the ink. She certainly wasn’t any Alice. She could sing, but not nearly as well as Susie or Allison. She couldn’t dance all that well, but she wasn’t afraid to try even if she looked silly. She couldn’t fight. Well, she could. She could swing an ax or a pipe. But only with one hand. All in all, though, she was just sort of…there. Another lost soul in the sea of souls. 

Joey watched her sometimes, for what reason he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just to torture himself. Because he knew what had happened to her was his fault. She was an innocent in this matter. An outsider. Whoever she’d been, she’d come to the studio out curiosity. She’d said something about a blog post, but it was possible he’d misheard her. He’d seen her enter and wander around. He’d seen her fall prey to the Ink Demon. It hadn’t taken long. She’d decided to turn on the machine and the demon had pounced, dragging into the puddles. The machine had spat her out in the form she currently possessed, half-formed and imperfect.

Sometimes, she wondered who she’d been before this place. She had no memories of her past life. She’d simply woken up in the studio one day, fully formed and strange. Others she’d met had tapes with their voices on them, tapes showing who they’d once been. She didn’t have any tapes with her voice on them. The people with the tapes had worked at the studio from what she could tell. So she probably hadn’t worked there. She would have liked to talk about her thoughts with someone, but there weren’t very many people to talk to.

The Alice on the lower floors didn’t like her all that much, screaming that she was a false angel. The Borises couldn’t really talk, and they avoided her anyway. She’d tried to talk to Norman a few times, but the Projectionist wasn’t interested in conversation. The Butcher Gang were pretty out of the question. She didn’t even think they  **could**  talk. She’d never met Joey in person, the studio keeping her away from him. She thought he sounded nice from the tapes, though. Sammy was pretty much the only person she’d ever talked to. He tolerated her most of the time, but she could tell he found her to be a bit irritating sometimes. Most of their conversations involved him telling her to have faith in their Lord. She didn’t really know what that meant and she didn’t have any real interest in worshipping a cartoon demon. 

Still, he seemed like he knew what he was talking about. He called her “little lamb” most of the time. She liked that. It felt special. Her own special little nickname. Especially since she didn’t really have a name. Well, she had a name, she just didn’t remember what it was. She was pretty sure it started with an F. That sounded right to her. F and then an I or an E. Fee sounded good or F-i said like fee. People had called her that before, she was sure of it. She could almost hear a young woman calling her that. The rest of her name was too hard to figure out, especially her last name. She got the idea that it was something rather strange and hard to pronounce, at least for other people.

Fi spent a lot of time in the animation department, writing down everything that came into her mind. Her handwriting was terrible, and it was strange writing with only four fingers, but she could read it. She wasn’t sure how much of it was her own life, though. She’d definitely never been a child in Victorian London, that was for sure. She thought maybe she’d been a writer. That would explain all the strange things she “remembered”. A lot of the things that passed through her mind were things that couldn’t possibly be real. Angels, demons, gods, magic. There was no way any of that was from her own life. She kept her papers in one of the animation desks. She was the only one who ever really went up there. She drew sometimes too. She liked drawing, even if she couldn’t only draw with her fingers and ink.

More than anything, she wanted to share the stories she remembered. Alice didn’t want to hear her stories, but Sammy listened. She couldn’t tell if he was actually interested, but he listened. He didn’t give her a lot of feedback on them, which was disappointing. She knew his mind was elsewhere. He had to keep up his devotion Bendy in order to be saved, or so he said. Fi didn’t really believe in Bendy the way Sammy did. They both knew this. But she liked helping him. She got lonely easily and liked spending time with him. He’d been delighted upon discovering she could play the violin. They were both less delighted with she pointed out she couldn’t really do the fingerings due to her lack of a defined left hand.

He sent Fi to put up Bendy cutouts in Alice’s domain a lot. She seemed convinced that she could somehow make friends with Alice. Despite her status as a ‘false angel’, Fi was slowly getting Alice to warm up to her. Although, it wasn’t like Alice was going to admit it. But she didn’t yell if Fi wandered into her domain. Fi liked doing things for her as well, leading Alice to often ask her to fetch ink hearts for her or exterminate Butcher Gang members. Fi did whatever Alice asked short of getting extra thick ink. She started crying whenever she was tasked with taking ink from the Swollen Searchers. Fi had a soft heart, apparently.

Fi liked helping people, she’d found. It made her feel good to make people smile, or at least make the Hell they found themselves in a little more bearable. She did have moments of darkness, though. Whoever she’d been before this, she’d definitely struggled with her mental demons. No matter how happy or cheerful she tried to be, there would always be days when she’d wake up and just find herself miserable. When these days came, she’d just lay on the ground and do nothing. Sammy left her alone during these days. The first few times he’d discovered her in this state, he’d told her not to despair, as Bendy would save them. She’d given a vaguely affirmative grunt and hadn’t move. He hadn’t tried that approach again.

Fi avoided talking about their predicament most of the time, but she was always thinking about it. Occasionally, her thoughts just…slipped out. Like when Sammy was putting up cutouts in the entrance to the Heavenly Toys area. She’d tagged along, mostly because she was feeling lonely again.

“Why don’t I have a tape?” She asked. Sammy looked up from the cutout. She couldn’t see his face behind the mask, so it was hard to tell how he was feeling. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He replied. 

“Everyone else has tapes.” She said. “Why don’t I have one?”

“I don’t believe you ever worked here.” Sammy turned back to his cutout. “You simply wandered in one day.”

“Oh…” She frowned slightly. She’d known that, but it was still disappointing. The tapes told you things about people. About who they’d once been. She wanted to know who she used to be.

The two of them were quiet for a long time. 

“Did you see me before I became like this?” Her voice was quiet. She didn’t know what she’d looked like before, but she knew her body was wrong. Being so thin felt unnatural to her. Sure, her skeletal form gave her the illusion of an hourglass figure, but she didn’t like it. She thought she’d been soft once, squishy and nice to cuddle with.

“I did not.” Sammy shook his head. 

“Okay.” She nodded slowly. She wanted to fidget, but she couldn’t really do it when she only had one proper hand. She also had a desire to bounce her right leg, but couldn’t since it was a pillar of ink.

Sammy glanced back at her, sensing her sudden shift in mood. 

“Have faith, my little lamb.” He said. “Our Lord will set us free.”

“If you say so…” She didn’t completely believe him. But she wanted to. She wanted to get out of here. She wanted to be alright. 

Only when Francine arrive did she really begin to believe that they could get out somehow.


	2. Chapter 2

Once again, H[ymns of Struggle](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fseries%2F910524&t=OTAyNDdmMzE2OWZjNjJjNDg2MzlhNmIyZjZhNWVlOTJlNWI4NjY4YSxHYXRHRXk4Ug%3D%3D&b=t%3Abf1mUcY3jG5LyWt2YecXMQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fqueenofcats17.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186776930320%2Falmost-an-angel-2&m=0) belongs to [@pipesflowforeverandever](https://tmblr.co/m2zmumMEKoKDrJDlESd5txQ)

* * *

Fi was absolutely delighted when Francine arrived in the studio. She was almost entirely certain that she was about Francine’s age. The oldest she figured she was was 22. Or 21. She wasn’t sure. Still, she was delighted. Most of the other people in the studio (Alice, Sammy, and kind of Norman) were fully-fledged Adults. They had jobs (or had  **had** jobs) and did adult things like have a house and pay mortgages or whatever. Actually, none of them had said anything about that. She was just assuming. The point was, they were older than her. She was pretty sure she was still in college.

“This is really exciting!” Fi clapped her hands together, or tried to, as she followed along behind Francine and Sammy. “There’s nobody else my age here!”

“How old are you?” Francine asked, glancing back at her.

“Um….” Fi’s face twisted as she tried to think. “19? Or, um, no. 20? 21 is the oldest, I think. Or maybe 22? No, it’s definitely 21. Wait…” She continued to mutter to herself, her face still twisted in thought. Francine looked at Sammy. 

“She is not an original inhabitant of the studio.” He explained. “She, like you, wandered here yourself. She was not so lucky, however. My Lord did not bless her as he blessed you.” Francine felt her stomach twist. She’d been hoping she was the only one foolish enough to venture into the studio again. Just how long had the other woman been here? It couldn’t have been too long since she recognized Francine’s phone and said she had one of her own.

“It’s 21!” Fi announced, seemingly having figured it out. “At least, I’m pretty sure. I’m pretty sure I’m 21. Or 20. Either one.”

“That’s…nice,” Francine said slowly.

“My apologies for her,” Sammy whispered. “She tends to be a bit excitable.”

“It’s okay,” Francine assured him. “I don’t mind.” It was nice to have someone who was at least slightly positive. Her positivity only made her situation even sadder, though. Unlike Sammy or Alice, Fi didn’t know her name. She didn’t know who she’d been. She didn’t even remember how  **old** she was.

“Oh! Frankie!” Fi latched herself onto Francine’s arm. “Do you want to see my papers?” Despite her strange appearance, she had such a lovely smile. It lit up her whole face and made everyone around her feel warm.

“Your…papers?” Francine repeated tentatively.

“I write down things I remember!” Fi bounced up and down. “I’m pretty sure I used to be a writer or something because I have really cool ideas!”

“They are entertaining.” Sammy conceded. “She certainly has an imagination.” It reminded him a bit of Joey, but she had none of the expectations he was certain Joey had had.

“That might be nice,” Francine said, managing a smile.

“Awesome!” Fi squealed. “It’ll be so cool to have someone else to talk about this with!” She scrambled off, still squealing and flapping her arms excitedly. 

“Should we wait for her?” Francine asked. 

“She’ll find us.” Sammy shrugged. “She always does.”

And Fi did find Francine again. Francine was with Alice when Fi returned, looking a bit disappointed. Alice’s expression softened a bit upon seeing Fi, almost imperceptibly.

“Hello, little songbird,” Alice said, trying very hard to sound disinterested. “What brings you down to my level? I would have thought you’d be following that prophet about.”

“Oh, hi, Alice!” Fi perked up, a big smile spreading across her face. “Hi, Frankie!” She waved to both, although it lacked her usual enthusiasm. Her hands, or hand, were empty.

“Hey.” Francine waved back. “Did you bring your papers?”

“Oh, uh, no.” Fi’s face fell. “I was going to bring them but…Well…I didn’t want to get them dirty. They’re already kind of hard to read. My handwriting isn’t great.” She started to fidget, which was rather difficult given her left arm was basically just dripping ink.

“Where do you keep your papers?” Francine asked. 

“In the animation department,” Alice answered for the younger woman. “She holes up there whenever she remembers anything so she can get it down on paper before she forgets.”

“Sometimes I tell Sammy or Alice about it too.” Fi brightened once more. “Although, I don’t know if Sammy’s really interested.” Her smile faltered momentarily before returning. “But Alice likes listening! She says my stories are good!”

“Nothing interests him unless it involves that grinning demon.” Alice’s voice dripped with disdain. 

“He’s just trying to cope,” Fi and Francine said together. They both looked at one another and laughed. Alice snorted derisively but said nothing more. Her little cherubs were far too sweet for their own good.

“You could take me to the animation department to show me the papers if you want.” Francine offered, turning her attention back to Fi. “And if your handwriting is really bad, you can just read them to me.”

“Yeah! That’s a really good idea!” Fi nodded, flapping her arms excitedly. “I can tell you about all my ideas! I’m pretty sure they’re my ideas, at least. Some of them might be my memories. I’m not sure. But still!” She was practically jumping up and down in her excitement. Francine couldn’t help but laugh. Fi was so cute. 

“Do you wanna go now?” Fi asked. 

“Sure.”

“Okay! See you later, Alice!” Fi darted over to give Alice a hug before dragging Francine away. Alice sighed as they left, but Francine could have sworn she saw the angel smile. 

“So, what kinds of things do you write about?” Francine asked as Fi dragged her along.

“Well, a lot of the things I remember are about Norse mythology,” Fi said. “I remember a lot about that, so I must have been interesting in it before all this. I especially remember things about the god Loki and his children. He’s got a lot of kids, you know.”

“I didn’t know that,” Francine admitted. 

“There are three main ones from a jotun called Angrboda, one from a horse, and two from a goddess named Sigyn. The three from Angrboda are the giant wolf Fenrir, the giant snake Jormungandr, and the goddess of death, Hel. I like her the most, honestly. The one from the horse is called Sleipnir, and he’s a horse with eight legs. The ones from Sigyn are Narfi and Vali, who are completely normal looking boys.” Fi seemed to change as she spoke. She seemed more confident and in control. It was also interesting how Fi pronounced the names of some of the children.

“That’s a lot more than I knew.” Francine laughed. “You must’ve done a lot of research about this.”

“Yeah, I probably did.” Fi returned the laugh. “It’s really interesting. Well, to me at least. I also know a bunch of random stuff about Victorian London. I think I was writing a story with that too.”

As they ascended through the studio, passing through the winding corridors and stepping over puddles, Fi continued to spout off her strange eclectic knowledge. She had a strange patchwork of knowledge about the most random of things. She could talk a lot about Norse mythology, weird things involving history, things about literature. She also liked talking about cats. She really seemed like she liked cats.

“I think I have a cat back home,” Fi said with a faraway look in her eye. “He was a little grey cat. I’m sure of it.”

“I have a cat too,” Francine replied. “His name’s Neptune.”

“Aaaw! I’m sure he’s so cute!” Fi squealed before her face fell. “Gods, I really miss cats. I want to snuggle my cat again.” 

“Once we get out, I’m sure you’ll get to see him again,” Francine reassured her. Fi stopped abruptly, causing Francine to run into her back. 

“What’s wrong?” Francine asked, suddenly worried something had happened.

“You said…. **When**  we get out,” Fi said, her voice soft. “But… **Are**  we ever going to get out?”

“Of course we are,” Francine said. Her own stubbornness and spit reared its head. She  **wasn’t**  going to die here. That  **wasn’t**  going to happen. She was going to get out of here and she was bringing everyone else with her.

“Well, okay.” Fi smiled weakly. “I believe you.”

“The animation department is this way, right?” Francine gently tugged on Fi’s hand, starting down the hallway once more. Fi nodded, following behind her with a small smile. 

As they exited the breakroom, (they’d used a hatch in that area to get up from the lower levels) something caught Francine’s eye. It was a bag, laying on the ground near the Ink Machine area. She let go of Fi’s hand, walking over toward it.

“What is it?” Fi approached behind her. It was a black bag, with the word Bahamas printed all over it in garish neon green and yellow. 

“This wasn’t here when I came in.” Francine frowned as she picked it up. It felt like it contained multiple somethings. She opened it and looked inside. There was a notebook, a few pens and pencils, a book, a key, some chapstick, earbuds, and a phone. A modern smartphone. 

“That’s…” Fi let out a small gasp. 

“Is this yours?” Francine asked. She turned back to the younger woman, finding her single visible eye wide. Her body was shaking as she reached for the bag with her single untouched hand. Francine handed it over, allowing Fi to sit down and sift through the contents. 

“These are…These are mine.” She murmured, gingering drawing out the notebook. She didn’t dare open it for fear of damaging it with her inky arm. The book was a fantasy book which she had vague memories of. She was afraid to touch the phone, but still, she did. 

She lifted it out of the bag as though it would break if she was too rough with it. She pressed her right index finger to the home button. Fingerprint recognition didn’t work, of course, but she still managed to type out the passcode drilled into her mind. And then she was in. The phone was showing a low battery warning, which wasn’t surprising. She swiped through the pages of mobile games and weather apps. 

“Do you have any pictures?” Francine knelt beside her. Fi nodded, going to the photo app. A sob ripped its way through her body at the first picture displayed. A young woman, laying on a beanbag with a cat on her chest. She was young, at least in her early 20′s, and had a wonderful smile. She wore wire-rimmed glasses and her hair was cut short. 

“Is that…?” Francine looked at Fi. 

“That’s me,” Fi whispered, reaching out to touch the screen with one finger. “That’s me! A-And that’s my kitty! That’s my kitty!” She looked on the verge of tears. Feverishly, she began to swipe at the pictures, discovering more that elicited even more emotion. She found pictures of her parents, her friends, her sister.

At first, she just sobbed. Then she began to scream. She screamed at the ceiling, at the Ink Demon, at Joey Drew. They were keeping her here. They had deprived her of her family, of everything she held dear. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home and see the people she loved again. Francine didn’t stop her because she felt exactly the same way. She took comfort, though, in the date on the latest picture. It had been a little under a year ago. Fi still had someone to go back to.


End file.
